


Almost Unreal

by angeoltaire



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 10:39:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9380801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angeoltaire/pseuds/angeoltaire
Summary: It's what he'd craved most for years; those hands, rough and calloused, skimming over his waist, his chest, his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, finally settling in his hair. And Snow's lips – so soft yet so demanding, punctuating his point with a thousand desperate kisses, taking everything Baz had to offer with a dominance Baz had never expected of Simon Snow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during chapter 62, just after Simon has kissed Baz for the second time, but before they wake up in front of the fireplace.

It'd been a long day.

 

Baz laid down on his bed, his stomach full from dinner. His head was spinning; he closed his eyes and behind the lids his mind played through flashbacks of Nicodemus, of the surge of anger so strong it could have blinded him, of the fire, and then of Simon leaning forward, knotting his hands into Baz's hair and kissing him full on the mouth.

 

It took everything in Baz not to get too lost in the latter memory. It's what he'd craved most for years; those hands, rough and calloused, skimming over his waist, his chest, his neck, his jaw, his cheeks, finally settling in his hair. And Snow's lips – so soft yet so demanding, punctuating his point with a thousand desperate kisses, taking everything Baz had to offer with a dominance Baz had never expected of Simon Snow.

 

A familiar surge of desire began to pool in the bottom of Baz's stomach, his cheeks flushing faintly. He ignored it, propping himself up on his elbows to glance down towards Simon. He was still sat, with his knees curled up to his chest, on the floor at the end of Baz's bed, staring vacantly at the flames flickering in the hearth.

 

Baz cleared his throat. “You can come lie down with me, you know,” he murmured.

 

Simon looked up, his eyes wide and his cheeks rosy. “That's okay, I'll probably fall asleep soon anyway, and I don't really want to bother you.”

 

“You're not a bother,” Baz replied, and Simon's insides fluttered at the eagerness in his response.

 

Simon pushed himself up from the floor and hesitantly walked over to Baz's bed, having to tiptoe slightly in order to get up onto the plush mattress. He slid under the covers, and shuffled over until he was lying close enough beside Baz to feel the heat radiating from him. Simon found the closeness comforting.

 

They'd kissed. Twice. And after years of fighting, of thinking that Baz only knew how to loathe him, Simon didn't really know where he stood. He only knew that he wanted to kiss Baz again. And maybe some more after that.

 

He leaned over, to where Baz was now laying with his eyes closed, and slowly but surely pressed a soft kiss to the other boy's lips. He let his lips linger for a moment, before pulling back and laying back down.

 

That was all it took for Baz to give in to everything his body had been screaming for during the last handful of hours. Before either of them could think twice, Baz had grabbed hold of Simon's arm and pulled him gently, guiding him up and over until his knees were settled either side of Baz's waist. Baz took Simon by the back of the neck, drawing him in and kissing him like both of their lives depended on it. Simon responded willingly, parting his lips and grazing his tongue across Baz's bottom lip; Baz let out the softest of groans, his breath hot against Simon's cheek.

 

They kissed deeply, Baz's hands exploring Simon's chest, kneading the smooth skin stretched over tensed muscle. Simon laced his hands through Baz's hair, grasping at the roots with skilled fingers and tugging ever so slightly, just enough to drive Baz insane. Simon tugged at the hem of Baz's t-shirt and the other boy complied immediately, sitting up for long enough to pull the shirt off over his head and toss it onto the floor. Baz helped to remove Simon's shirt in turn, relishing in that final moment when Simon's bare skin was against his own.

 

Neither were sure when it started, but it wasn't long before the boys found themselves desperate and grinding, Baz's hips bucking up to meet Simon's, Simon's crotch pressing down firmly against Baz's in a way that left them both hard and panting and begging for more contact, more pressure, just _more._

 

Simon pulled back and sat up, the corners of his lips upturning as Baz sighed frustratedly, the lack of Simon's lips on his bringing a crease to his brow. Smoothing his thumb across Baz's bottom lip, Simon leaned down once more, dragging his lips down Baz's neck, across his throat, along his collarbone; he went as far down as he could go before he reached the button of Baz's jeans.

 

This time, Simon didn't even need to ask; Baz's hands were immediately at the button, unzipping the fly, pulling his jeans down far enough that Simon could do the rest, tugging the jeans from Baz's muscled calves and discarding them to the pile of clothes slowly forming on the floor.

 

He hesitated, but only for a second, before leaning down and starting to mouth at the bulge in Baz's boxers. Baz gasped, a raspy sound that came from his chest, and fisted his hand in Simon's hair.

 

“This okay?” Simon murmured, glancing up at Baz through thick eyelashes. Baz gulped, and Simon swore he saw a tiny flicker of fear in Baz's eyes, but he nodded nonetheless.

 

Simon hooked his fingers under the waistband of Baz's boxers and slid them down, just to his knees for now. Baz's dick laid against his stomach, red and swollen, precome already beading on the head. Simon had never really thought about doing this before, let alone had time to research what to do, or how this works, but he figured it couldn't be too hard, right? He'd had enough years of pent-up sexual frustration and wanking in the shower to give him some idea of what felt good.

 

He closed his hand around Baz's dick and pulled upwards slowly, his eyes steady on Baz's face as he did so. The other boy's eyes flew shut immediately, his lips parted and his breath heavy. Simon took that as a good sign, and took Baz into his mouth.

 

“Aleister Crowley,” Baz sighed, his hips raising ever so slightly, pressing his dick further into Simon's mouth. Holy crap, _Simon's mouth_. Everything felt hot and wet and soft and _so good._ Baz knew he wasn't going to last long, his crotch was already throbbing.

 

Simon began to bob his head up and down, his tongue grazing the shaft of Baz's erection as he pulled back up each time. The longer he did this for, the more he could take, until the head was pressed against the back of his throat and Baz released the most sinful of groans.

 

A few more repeats of this routine, accompanied by Simon's hand working at the base of the shaft, and Baz reached climax, coming hard at the back of Simon's throat.

 

After coming down from his high, Baz looked down towards Simon, and the look of utter disbelief and adoration in Baz's eyes made Simon's stomach flutter.

 

“Was that good?” Simon smirked, pulling himself up until he was far enough up the bed to pull Baz onto his chest.

 

Baz found he couldn't answer, too dazed. This was too unreal. Simon Snow, not only his first kiss, but also his first _time_. Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

 

He had to repay the favour. He needed to show Simon how much that had meant to him, needed to make the other boy feel as good as he had felt. He ran his fingernails down Simon's chest, right down, until his hand was cupping Simon's crotch through his jeans.

 

“May I?” he teased, gripping a little firmer. Simon nodded his consent.

 

Baz tried to imitate what Simon had done – what he could remember, anyway, as the majority of Simon's actions had been lost within the white hot pleasure that had taken over Baz's entire body. He was probably more unsure of himself than Simon had been, but whatever he was doing seemed to be working; it didn't take long for Simon to reduce to nothing but a writhing mess, his fists clenching desperately at the bedsheets, his dick throbbing in Baz's mouth. Baz could spend all day doing this, he decided.

 

Simon was truly a sight as he came undone, spilling onto his own chest with the help of Baz's hand, working him until Simon's entire body fell limp. Baz cleaned up their mess with the tissue from his bedside table and got into fresh pyjamas, before crawling back into bed beside the now half asleep Simon.

 

“'S'cold,” Simon mumbled, pulling the covers up tighter around his neck.

 

“We could go lay by the fire, if you want?” Baz suggested. Simon sat up, nodded once, and jumped down for the bed, immediately seeking out and putting back on his boxers. Baz took the pillows and the duvet from the bed and set them out a couple of metres from the fire, getting himself comfy on the side furthest from the flames. Half dressed again, Simon laid down beside him, pulling Baz's arm around his waist and laying on his side until Baz is spooning Simon, his entire body wrapped around Simon's like they were always made to fit together that way. Baz locates Simon's fingers in the dim light, and laces their fingers together against Simon's chest.

 

“Night Simon,” Baz whispered softly, smiling to himself at the satisfied hum of Simon's response.

 

“Night, Baz.”

 

And that's how they fell asleep – Baz wrapped around Simon, Simon wrapped up in Baz, both, for the first time in a long time, feeling safe.

 


End file.
